So close, p.31
So Close, page 31
Two servers work in tandem to bring the champagne in a standing ice bucket and two delicate flutes. Lily orders sparkling water with lemon.
“I thought we’d toast to your return,” I say mildly, hiding my irritation. She’s a contrary girl, seemingly determined to do the opposite of what I wish.
Her smile is sweet enough to make my teeth hurt. “I’m not a drinker.”
I wave the champagne away and order a flat white coffee instead.
When we’re alone again, I strike quickly to reap the advantage of surprise. “Does Kane know your real name?”
Her mouth curves in an easy smile. “What makes a name real?”
My lips purse. She didn’t even blink.
“I find it very strange,” I say, “that it doesn’t bother you to be called by another name in private moments with the man you love.”
“Have I ever told you I love him?” she queries curiously. “You and I have barely exchanged a handful of words, as I recall, and we’ve never discussed Kane.”
I shift, my back automatically straightening. “You like playing games.”
“I do.” Her leg swings to and fro. “I’m very good at them. You might want to find a different opponent.”
Her water and my coffee arrive, and she gifts the server a beatific smile.
“What do you want?” I ask. “How much do you want?”
Resting her forearm on her knee, she leans forward, her emerald gaze focused like a laser. Not for the first time, I notice how cool and calculating those eyes are. Kane doesn’t see it because she’s always careful to look at him with heat. Of course, maybe she doesn’t have to fake that. Kane has the same exuberant sexuality as his father, and women can’t resist it.
“What do you want, Aliyah?”
“To protect my son, my family and my business.”
“Your motivations aren’t nearly as noble,” she dismisses. “You could manage Kane more easily when he was half dead with grief, and there was nothing for him to live for but Baharan. You want me to go away in the hopes that he’ll go back to being a workaholic, but he’s been fundamentally changed by my return. You can’t unring that bell.”
I reach for the delicate saucer holding my cup of coffee. “You think you have the power to manipulate Kane? Because his heartache over another woman has made him desperate, and you’ve clouded his mind with sex? It won’t last. You’ll get tired of playing a role, and he’ll get tired of you.”
Her brows arch. “Another woman?”
“I know about your aliases. I know there’s no legitimate trail for the money. I know you’re not Lily because the Coast Guard recovered her body. You’re running a stupendously elaborate con, but you’ve made mistakes.”
Her nostrils flare on a deep breath, and she flows back into the chair, settling comfortably into the plush seat back. Subtle tells, but a retreat, nonetheless. Satisfaction fills me. She’s not so self-assured now.
“You want his money,” I press on because my first salvos were so effective, “and you’re feeling confident you can get your hands on at least some of it, but you forgot Kane’s friends, many of whom knew Lily very well. And Baharan’s board and investors will ensure you don’t affect their bottom line. And don’t underestimate Gideon Cross. He has an almost neurotic concern about bad press. The longer your charade goes on, the more invested people will be in seeing it end.”
Her leg starts swinging again. “Do you love your son?”
“Of course.”
“Tell me why he was so utterly alone when I met him in college. Why he celebrated his birthdays alone. Why none of you ever attended his games.”
My jaw tightens. I can’t believe he’s discussed such things with her. It’s one thing if he’s lust-crazed; it’s another if he’s truly emotionally invested. “I don’t have to explain myself to you.”
“You want me to give you answers.” She leans forward so quickly I feel physically threatened. “Here’s one: you’re responsible for his obsession with me. You cut him loose when it was convenient for you to do so. You left him alone and rudderless, just like Paul did. Between the two of you, you left a hole in him parents are supposed to fill. So here we are. I complete him.”
“Oh, that’s rich.” I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Kane was an adult when he left home, and I had my hands full with his brothers and Rosana. It should come as no surprise that he was always popular. He had girls panting after him in middle school, and it only got worse when his sex drive kicked into high gear. I can’t tell you the number of times I caught him with a girl in his room. Why would he want to spend his birthday with bratty younger siblings when he could get his cock sucked instead? Why suffer a post-game dinner with out-of-town family when all those girls waited to celebrate underneath him?”
Frost tinges her smile. “You don’t see him as a human being with feelings at all, do you? Is it because he’s a man or because you can’t live with yourself otherwise? Not only is that a really terrible excuse, but it also defies your logic about my intentions. Women take numbers to hop into bed with him, but I’m just after his bank account? Has it never occurred to you that maybe I just want him? Because you value money more than Kane, you can’t imagine I wouldn’t feel the same way.”
Setting my cup carefully into its saucer, I hold her gaze as I stand. “You’re making yet another mistake, thinking I’m in the dark. You’d do better to think of a payoff amount that’ll tide you over until you find someone less insulated than Kane. You’ve carved yourself into a beautiful woman. You won’t have any trouble lining up someone else.”
“And you’d do better working with me to make Kane happy.”
I grab my handbag and round the coffee table. The hairs on my nape and arms are standing straight up. The caress of air across my bare back, usually so sensual, feels like a ghost hovering.
I stop by her chair. “I’m planning a welcome-home party for you. I’m inviting all of Kane and Lily’s friends. Also, Sage’s friends, Daisy’s and every other floral name you’ve gone by. It’ll be quite an event. You might want to call that stylist back and buy a new dress. You’ll get the invite soon. Thanks for the coffee.”
There’s an easy smile on my face as I walk out of the lounge, but I’m trembling.
“Aliyah.”
It takes tremendous effort to move confidently when I turn back to her. I arch my brow in silent query.
Her mouth curves. It’s so slight, the change in her. Visually, she looks perfectly tranquil. There’s a small, secret smile on her beautiful face as if we’re two close confidantes enjoying a private moment of amusement. But the energy around her has changed; I feel the chill from a few feet away. Her eyes, those bright, sparkling emeralds, have lost their fire and turned soulless. She’s dangerous in a different way than I previously gave her credit for.
“Don’t forget to invite your contractor friends from Seattle,” she says pleasantly. “I’m sure Kane can’t wait to meet them.”
I stare at her. I don’t know how long I’m frozen there, my smile solidified, my body rigid. I’m afraid. Down deep in places I avoid inspecting too closely.
Leaving, I reach the Greek cross of the main hall, with its coffered dome and dual curving staircases. My son takes a meal somewhere in this building with a powerful man. Kane’s probably flushed with good health and the satisfaction of having a stunning woman at the ready to relieve all manner of stress and tension. He may already be anticipating tonight, having no idea he’s curling up with a snake in his bed.
I pull a sheer white scarf from my bag and drape it over my hair and around my throat with practiced speed before exiting onto the street. I debate calling a cab, then decide I need something more potent than caffeine. I spy a restaurant and bar up the street and take a walk. The weather grows warmer by the day, the moisture in the air thickening as we push deeper into the year. The sun is high in the sky, so bright I lament not having sunglasses. I’m relieved to enter the restaurant’s cool interior, and I stand a moment, letting my eyes adjust.
The hostess, a young woman in the requisite little black dress, smiles. “Hello. Do you have a reservation?”
I glance at the barroom. “I’m just here for a drink.”
“It’s open seating at the bar,” she says, but I’ve already walked away. I take one of the barstools and push my scarf back. I’m more rattled than I want to admit. When I return to the office, I’ll have an emergency meeting with Darius, then call Ryan. I lied about the party because I couldn’t stand walking out of the clubhouse with my tail between my legs. I will not be cowed by a woman too clever to reveal anything useful and too dangerous to take on by myself.
I order a glass of pinot noir. I should drink white wine if I’m going to indulge midday, but red feels like it has the appropriate gravitas. When I take the first sip, I sigh. There’s a television behind the bar, and I watch it.
The volume is muted but unnecessary since the closed captions convey the information to anyone interested. I look away, noting the predominance of empty tables in the bar, although the dining room shows brisker business, and the entrance door chimes frequently.
“I thought that was you.”
My spine locks up tight at the sound of that voice. Sweat spurts from my palms and scalp. My heart pounds, the sudden surge of panic and fear making me woozy. I spin on the stool, praying I’m wrong and just upset and distracted.
It can’t be Paul’s business partner. It just can’t be.
When I complete the revolution, I see the face of my nightmares. My stomach heaves.
Alex Gallagher leers in that knowing way that makes my skin crawl. “The blond dye job threw me off, but that body …” His tongue slides along his lower lip. “I know that body real well.”
My mouth is dry. I want to scream, but there’s no spit in my mouth. He taunts me on purpose. My violent disgust arouses him. The more he hurts and debases me, the more pleasure he gets.
I take a drink, my shaking hand sloshing the wine in my glass. The cool liquid loosens my tongue. “Get away from me.”
Paul’s former partner just smiles and reaches for a lock of my hair. With a jerk of my shoulder, I prevent the contact. “Don’t touch me.”
“Aww … don’t be like that. We’re old friends.”
He leans in, and his smell makes my body convulse with loathing. All the images I’ve locked inside that deep, dark place come tumbling out. Lily loosened the lid; Alex’s voice, scent and scornful gaze pry it wide open.
Our hatred is mutual. It sprouted after he partnered with Paul. I was so excited in the beginning. They were a great team, both men attractive and charismatic, whip-smart and ambitious. They were going to disrupt an industry together, and our futures held so much promise. Alex’s wife, Ingrid, and I handled the entertaining and spent all our free time together. She was a statuesque blonde, and her daughter was just as golden. We once imagined Kane and Astrid might end up together.
And then things began to change. Paul attracted more recognition. I thought it might be as simple as his height commanding attention, as it does with Kane, but Paul was also at ease with himself, humble and humorously self-deprecating. He was less aggressive than Alex, more easygoing and fun. He began to receive more personal invitations than his partner. People tended to look at him when they spoke during business meetings and only glanced at Alex.
A few years into the partnership, the inappropriate comments started.
I’ve always preferred brunettes.
I like women with curves.
You’ve got beautiful lips. I bet Paul loves them wrapped around his cock.
Then came the touching – the hand on the knee under the table and the not-so-casual brushes against my buttocks and breasts. I had to avoid being alone with him and always remain at Paul or Ingrid’s side.
I didn’t know how to explain it to Paul. It wasn’t simple sexual attraction or even the weakness of coveting. It was a toxic stew of resentment and anger that Alex didn’t have the balls to take out on Paul. I was merely a stand-in.
And when Paul left me, alone and defenseless with Kane, I had nothing to offer in return for the Baharan name and the chemical patents for which Paul was directly responsible. But the newly broke and divorced Alex had ways to make me pay for all the insults he felt had been inflicted on him.
I’m still paying. And I will for the rest of my life.
His hand settles on my arm, and my entire body revolts violently. My arm jerks. The wine glass in my hand tips. The bowl shatters on the bar top, and bloodred wine spills in a river.
My body moves with a will of its own, rage burning through my mind in a fiery rush. He screams, the desperate sound horrifically inhuman.
Pain sears my fingers and palm. I instinctively yank my hand away from the source.
And gape, horrified, at the sight of the jagged wine glass and stem protruding from Alex Gallagher’s groin.
46
LILY
I wake before you and lie quietly in the darkness, watching you sleep.
You’ve thrown one arm over your head; the other drapes across your ridged abdomen. The sheet rides low on your hips and tangles around your thighs, exposing your long legs. The duvet is bunched between us. You sleep hot, radiating feverish heat. I sleep cold and need the weight of the blankets.
You are, as ever, a deeply seductive enticement.
I’ve photographed you like this before. How could I resist? You’re sexy and powerful, even in repose. Your body is masterfully sculpted, so perfectly defined in every respect. I don’t know how I survive your strength when lust holds you in its unrelenting grip.
You once said making love with me feels like dying, and perhaps that’s the reality. Maybe I don’t survive your love at all. Perhaps, like the phoenix, I’m simply reborn again and again.
La petite mort, my love. As you said, I hope I take my final breath in your arms.
It’s going to be a big day for us. The farthest we’ve been apart was yesterday when you had lunch on a different floor of the same building. Today, you’re going into the office to work, and I’ll be without you close at hand for the first time since I woke. We’ve jointly and without discussion adopted that measure of time: before I woke and after. At some point, you decided to focus only on the after. But then you’re holding secrets from before, aren’t you?
I knew once you had lunch with Gideon Cross, you would be drawn back into the corporate world you so blithely dismissed. The hunt is in your blood; the need to chase and taste victory. Your knowledge of self is rudimentary, at best. I hope to help you discover all your facets, appreciate your inner beauty and love yourself as deeply as you love me.
Your breathing changes. The even tempo hitches on a quick, deep breath. Closing my eyes, I feign sleep as you stretch, then turn toward me. I feel your gaze on my face and hear you sigh. Some nights, you sleep restlessly, and when you slide over me, there’s a frantic edge to your lovemaking. Do you dream of the years you were alone? I don’t know how to take that pain from you.
You leave my bed, and I hear the soft pad of your footfalls as you head into my bathroom. You’ve abandoned your bedroom with its portrait of Lily and now share my room and bed. Your toiletries surround my second sink. You keep your closet as before, but there’s a section in mine where you keep a few items. I like seeing our things together.
My room smells like the two of us now. I hope we’ll have the opportunity to fine-tune our master suite in a way that clearly defines one room as ours. I hope for a lot of things. With every day that passes, I hope for more and more.
But those possibilities only exist if I succeed today.
I roll to my side of the bed and pop a mint in my mouth. I hear the rush of water in the sink. What do you think of in these moments while you prepare to make love to me? I wish I could read your mind. It’s not the act of shaving that gives you an erection.
The water turns off, and my nipples bead tightly. Between my legs, my sex dampens with need. You have me well trained; my circadian rhythm has become inextricably entwined with your desire. I curl back onto my side as you return fully naked and aroused. I smile as you lift the sheets and slide between them.
“Hey,” you murmur, returning my smile as you hitch an arm beneath me and move me to the center of the mattress. You blanket my body with yours, your skin cool and your flesh hot. Your jaw is damp and whisker-free.
Your lips seal over mine. I fall into the drugging arousal of your intoxicating kiss.
An hour passes before you collapse onto your back beside me, dripping sweat and breathing hard. My entire body tingles and throbs, even my toes and the tips of my fingers. The abundant wetness coating my sex illustrates the intensity of your climax. Sunlight now pours through the enormous unadorned window in the bathroom, infusing the room with enough ambient light to see clearly.
You feel around for my hand and link our fingers. “There’s no hurry for me to go back to the office. I’m managing just fine from here.”
Turning my head, I meet your gaze. Your eyes reveal concern and so much love it steals my breath. I can hide many things from you, but I can’t hide from you. You see me so well and read my feelings so clearly. You must’ve sensed my turmoil. I hate feeling so anxious about the hours looming ahead, yet I know it would be wrong to feel calm. That apprehension will keep me on my toes and separates me from my mother.
I lift our joined hands to my mouth and kiss your knuckles. “I just want you to be careful. Be overly cautious, even if it makes you feel silly. Do it for me.”
You face me and brush the damp tendrils of hair off my cheek. Then you kiss me softly and sweetly. “I’ll do anything for you, silly or not.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m working on our Val Laska problem. I’ve got a lot of men on it. And the NYPD is all over him, too.”
“I know.”
The curve of your mouth is supremely confident and undeniably sexy. “You’re okay? Really?”
“I just had three orgasms, Kane,” I say drily. “I’m more than okay. Go. Get ready. I may have a surprise for you before you head out to conquer the world.”
